“Begging, Dave?” drawled a voice from behind Steph.
Dave rose to his full height to stare down his nemesis.
“Nice ears.” Griffin snatched the mike from Dave's hands and approached the karaoke machine. He turned it off and addressed his audience. “This song is very special to me.”
Someone in the audience screamed, “Aaaah! It’s Griffin Huntley! I love you, Griffin!”
Everyone was going crazy, screaming and clapping. Especially the women. Griffin raised a hand. “Thank you, thank you.” When they finally quieted, he continued, “I wrote this song for my wife, Steph. Honey, this one's for you.”
Flashes went off as people took pictures of the famous Griffin Huntley giving an impromptu concert. Dave watched Steph carefully for her reaction. She was riveted, just like the rest of them. His heart sank.
~ ~ ~
Steph stared as Griff sang without music to a rapt audience. It was the song that had made him famous. The song that he’d written for her the day after her mother had died. The song that had come to him, he said, because of his love for her. “All for You” was an anthem that built, starting slow and building to a rocking chorus. In the cozy confines of the restaurant, his voice was beautiful, rolling with the gorgeous melody. There was a reason she never listened to his music. It reached past her defenses and wrapped around her heart.
She could feel Dave staring at her, but like everyone else she was mesmerized by the music, his voice, his charismatic presence. Griffin Huntley was made to be a rock star.
Tears welled up in her eyes as the memories came flooding back. Even though she’d known her mom would die soon, the day she did finally pass, quietly in her sleep, was still a shock. Steph had sat with her just the night before, holding her hand as she rested in the hospital bed they’d moved into her home. Griff had been with them too for a while, until her mom asked him to take Joey out for ice cream. Her mom had talked to her about the future. She wanted to hear all the things that Steph had planned for her life, all her dreams. And Steph, somehow knowing deep down that it was near the end, had told her mom everything she hoped for in her life with Griff. How she hoped he would make it big, how they would have children and bring them up with music too, how they’d travel the world as a family, how they’d make sure they did some good in the world.
Her mom had smiled and squeezed her hand. “I like that.” She drew in a raspy breath. “Remember you, Steph.” Another raspy breath. Then so quiet, she almost missed it, she said, “Your dreams too.”
Steph hadn’t understood at the time. Her dreams were Griff’s dreams; they were one and the same. When she’d explained that, her mom had looked into her eyes, hers burning with intent. “You. Don’t forget…you.”
Then she’d fallen asleep, never to wake again.
“Steph, are you okay?”
She turned toward the voice, still lost in the memories. She blinked at the incongruous vision before her. Dave, the ogre ears still on his head, as her husband's voice reached out to her through the power of music, reminding her of the love they once had, reminding her of the loss of her mother.
She jumped up so fast her chair knocked over. She turned and ran. Straight out of the restaurant. Down the sidewalk. No destination in mind, just needing some space to cry in peace. She’d thought she’d put her time with Griff behind her, but now here he was, messing with her head, reminding her of all that she’d lost back then. Footsteps pounded behind her. Had to be Dave. Griff would never leave his audience mid-song.
She stopped and turned to face the man she loved, who was now trying to be just like the man she no longer loved. She wanted the old Dave back. A tear leaked out.
“Don't cry,” he said, drawing her in close for a hug.
She looked over his shoulder. “I'll cry if I damn well feel like it.”
He pulled back to look in her eyes. His head cocked to the side and the ogre ears bobbled. “Is it Griffin you're crying about?”
She snatched the ogre ears off his head. It was hard to take him seriously like that. “It's that stupid song.”
“Oh. What about it?”
“He wrote it right after my mom died.” The tears came in earnest. “I miss her so much.”